


Drive

by xXUnwritten_SinsXx



Category: IT, IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 08:51:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21491632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXUnwritten_SinsXx/pseuds/xXUnwritten_SinsXx
Summary: I've literally been obsessed with Reddie for a while now, so here's a little collection of everything from smut, to angst, to the fluffiest shit ever. Enjoy.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 1
Kudos: 38





	1. Who's Going to Drive You Home?

**Author's Note:**

> Story one! Based off of the song Drive by The Cars!

** _You know, you can't go on _ **

** _Thinking nothing's wrong _ **

** _Who's going to drive you home tonight? _ **

It was one of those rare, quiet nights in Derry that made Richie feel like he was on the edge of the world. He sat alone in the old clubhouse, holding a shower cap. There was a spider just chilling in it, and Richie allowed himself a moment to laugh at the irony - Stan the Man had brought them down to stop spiders from getting into their hair. And now there was one spider just chilling there. He shook his head and took a deep breath. He had been a few years. They were nearing their last year of high school, and the rest of the Loser's were going to be split up, going off to college. Bev had stayed with her aunt, and she hadn't been in touch with anyone from Derry for years. Stan moved away last year with his folks, and his messages were few and far between. Ben, darling old Haystack, had moved away shortly after that summer with his folks, and they hadn't heard from him since. 

It was just him, Eddie, Mike and Bill now. The years had brought them both closer and further apart. Mike had his own shit going on, so did Bill and Eddie. Richie felt like he was left in the dust sometimes. Everyone else had big plans for college. Bill was going off to some fucking place in Canada with his folks for a bit, Mike was taking over his folks business and Eddie had plans of going to New York for college (despite Mrs. K's wails for him to stay home). Richie had a nagging fear that at the end of the year, when everyone went their separate ways, they would forget each other, just like Bev, Stan and Ben had. He couldn't admit to anyone how fucking scared he was about that. He didn't want to lose touch. Especially not with Eddie. 

Richie shook his head and lay back on the hammock, memories flooding though his brain like a tidal wave of misery and longing. He closed his eyes and reached up, pulling his glasses off and sighing. His throat felt uncomfortably tight. He was just drifting off into an uneasy sleep when he heard footsteps on the board above. He froze, eyes snapping open, panic bubbling in his throat. He had no idea why, but he felt caged all of a sudden. He slowly sat up, heart jumping in his throat as whoever it was stopped and started to move the board. Light flooded the clubhouse, rendering the lamps completely useless. 

Richie blinked as a familiar pair of beaten up sneakers descended the stairs, followed by a just as familiar pair of red shorts and a fanny pack. Richie felt his shoulders relax and his throat relax a little bit. 

Eddie didn't look around as he pulled the board back over the opening. Only when his eyes focused and he realized that he wasn't submerged in darkness did Eddie realize that he was not, in fact, the only person in the club house at that moment. He looked over and made eye contact with Richie, blinking in surprise. 

"Heya, Spaghetti!" Richie said, plastering a dopey grin on his face, "How the heck are ya? Didn't think that anyone else remembered this place!" 

Eddie blinked, silent for a little too long. The smile fell from Richie's face as Eddie's eyes welled up. 

"Hey, hey," Richie said in alarm, standing up from the hammock quickly, the shower cap falling from his hands. 

Eddie dropped heavily off of the ladder, still looking at Richie with that... look on his face. That look that Richie thought looked _way _too similar to the look that he had given him in Neibolt those years ago when he had fallen through the floor, broken his arm, and nearly been fucking eaten. They stood there, Richie alarmed and unsure of what to do, and Eddie staring, tears silently welling in his eyes. 

"I thought that everyone.." Eddie began carefully. 

Richie shook his head and gave a lopsided grin, "Not me. Not old Trashmouth. I never forget." 

Eddie gave a small smile as the pool in his eyes finally reaching capacity. Tears slipped over his eyes, and Richie jerkily moved forwards, pulling Eddie into an awkward hug. Eddie dissolved, wrapping his arms around Richie's torso, shaking. Richie had no idea what had come over him, only that he wanted to make him feel better. But how? He rubbed Eddie's back soothingly, resting his chin on the top of Eddie's head. 

"I keep thinking about it." Eddie's voice was muffled against Richie's chest, but he heard him all the same. 

"Me too," Richie admitted reluctantly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath that rattled in his chest, "I go through periods where I'm alright. I keep thinking, yeah, I'm cool! And then I'll see a fucking balloon or see a program with a clown on it and..." He shuddered. 

Eddie shivered against Richie, chest heaving painfully. He pulled away and fumbled in his fanny pack, grabbing his inhaler and taking a rattling puff. Richie quickly wiped at his eyes, embarrassed. Eddie pretended not to notice and turned away, pretending to look at the hideout while he wiped his own eyes. They were silent for a moment, before Eddie spoke, his voice small. 

"Do you come down here often?" 

"Sometimes," Richie admitted. He wanted to make a joke, the way that he usually did to try and lighten the mood, but for some reason he couldn't muster the energy. 

"I haven't come down here in a few years," Eddie admitted sadly, "It was like I forgot about it completely." 

Richie nodded. He was pretty sure that Bill and Mike had forgotten, too. It started as an unspoken rule - don't talk about that summer. That seemed to move into don't talk about Bev, then Ben, then Stan. And then it was just... don't talk. They passed in the halls and smiled at each other, they chatted in classes and sometimes they hung out. But it wasn't the same, and Richie felt like a piece of him had been ripped apart. He missed it. 

"I wonder if we're the only ones that remember," Richie murmured, sitting numbly on the hammock. 

Eddie looked over at Richie, with a look in his eye that made Richie wince. Eddie walked over after a moment and sat beside Richie on the hammock, the seat pinching their hips together. They sat silently for a moment, before Eddie broke the silence with one of the last things that Richie would have thought. 

"Remember when we used to spit loogies over the quarry?" 

Richie blinked, and then barked a laugh, "Yeah! And you only argued that it was mass over distance when you lost." 

Eddie scowled, "That's because it's _always _mass when you spit the biggest one." 

Richie opened his mouth to argue, a smile quirking his lips as he turned to face Eddie, but the look on his face made the words die in his throat. After a moment of silence, Eddie spoke, tone hesitant. 

"I was standing outside of the pharmacy today. I spit a loogey on the ground, and then it was like something hit me upside the head. I remembered those days, and then I remembered here." He shook his head, "I can't believe that I forgot. I thought that everyone else had, too." 

Richie paused, swallowing thickly, before speaking, "I forgot about this place too, for a time. Until the dreams came back." 

He had been having nightmares every night for the last month or so. He had come down to the clubhouse for a while after that summer, and then he just... stopped. Probably around the same time that Stan left. Admitting it felt like a stab, though, and he clamped his mouth shut. Eddie looked over at him for a moment, and a pregnant silence fell over them. It stretched on, and before he knew it, he had drifted off into a light sleep. 

He couldn't have been asleep for longer than a few moments, and in the future, whenever he remembered this moment (fewer and far between as the months stretched on) he still wasn't sure if it was a dream or not. Eddie leaned forwards and kissed him, softly, tenderly. Richie couldn't remember if his dream-state had kissed him back or not, but when he had fully woken up, he was alone in the clubhouse with only the lingering taste of camphor on his lips. 

He guessed that they really were the losers after all. 


	2. Love it if we made it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off of the song Love It If We Made It by The 1975!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Drugs, smut and aaaaaaaaaaangst.

Richie Tozier let out a soft sigh as he put his truck in park, his passenger smiling a little bit over at him, "Damn, Tozier. You really know how to treat a lady," the guy, Daniel, said with a smile. Richie shook his head and snorted, turning the radio up and pulling out his little pack. He assembled their tools over the dashboard, sliding Daniel's hit over to him and an elastic band. He flicked the tip of the needle a few times after loading it, before handing it over to Daniel, who already had his shirt off and the band around his arm. 

_ **Oh, fuck your feelings ** _

_ **Truth is only hearsay ** _

_ **We're just left to decay ** _

_ **Modernity has failed us ** _

Richie readied his own hit, barely registering Daniel's hiss of pain and sigh of relief as he hit the plunger. The music floated across his brain as he wrapped the elastic around his arm, cutting off the circulation. He flicked his arm, staring at the purple vein underneath his bruised skin. He could hear Daniel laughing as the heroin flowed through his veins, and Richie shook with anticipation. He honestly couldn't handle Daniel unless he was high - he had to remind himself that when he was going to do this shit that he had to at least get buzzed first. 

"Hurry," Daniel whined, and Richie suppressed the urge to flick him in the eyeball. 

Richie slipped the tip of the needle into his skin. The sting didn't bother him anymore. He hit the plunger with a steady thumb, watching as the auburn liquid deposited into his skin. He dropped the needle back in it's little case, unwrapped the band from his arm, and quickly packed things away. His heart was hammering, waiting...waiting...._Ah. _It felt like he finally took a breath after holding it in until he couldn't anymore. 

It took a few moments before he felt _it. _Before he saw _him. _He looked over at Daniel and he no longer saw the blonde jock in the passenger seat. No, now he saw him. He had no idea who he was, or where he knew him from. But he knew him like the back of his hand. There was a huge chunk of his childhood that he couldn't remember, so he could only imagine that this was either some crush he had had that he had never really gotten over. That and the fact that the only reason he fucked Daniel or even put up with him is because he supplied the best shit. 

Richie's gaze softened at the person he saw now, a little sad smile playing at his lips, "C'mere," He mumbled numbly, reaching over and lifting the console in the middle of the bench seat. The boy laughed, a rich laugh that made him grin stupidly as he pulled his glasses off, tossing them onto the dashboard. 

_Eddie. _

The name crossed his mind, and suddenly he knew who it was. Eddie fucking Kaspbrak. Richie's heart pounded as Eddie straddled him, his body against his, the slight taste of camphor mixing with something tangy overwhelming him as they kissed. 

It was clumsy and perfect. They undressed slowly, knowing their movements, knowing their placements like it was a well rehearsed dance. Richie littered kisses over the boys' chest, carefully making sure that he was enjoying himself. He took Eddie in his mouth, sucking him softly, savoring his taste and the noises that he made. He knew when Eddie was close - his toes curled and his back arched, and Richie pulled back, smiling playfully. They fucked softly, and Richie came with a soft sob that he buried in Eddie's neck, shaking with emotion that he wouldn't remember when the high faded. 

"I missed you, I missed you," Richie murmured against his skin, littering affectionate kisses across his collarbone, "Eddie, fuck, I missed you so much, I missed you so fucking much, please don't leave, don't forget me again," He whispered, not caring that he was begging this illusion to stay, not caring that he was crying or shaking. Eddie whispered against him, promising not to leave, promising that he was there to stay. 

However long they lay like that, Richie had no idea. When the drugs started to wear off, and Eddie faded, Richie pulled himself up stoically and started to clean himself, handing some wipes over to Daniel. After a moment of shuffling silence, the music the only sound between them, Daniel spoke. 

"Who's Eddie?" 

Richie blinked, opening his mouth...... 

"I don't know." 


	3. Leather Jacket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off of the song Leather Jacket by the Arkells~!

_ **You called me up from a payphone ** _

_ **I said hang tight, I can drive you home ** _

_ **I pulled on up and with a southern accent ** _

_ **I offered you my dad's leather jacket** _

Eddie Kaspbrak knew the exact moment that he was fucked. 

He had been out with Stan at a party (one of his first) and he was hammered. Stan had disappeared in the crowd, and he had panicked being left alone. He had fled the house party and stood outside of a payphone, shakily inserting a few coins. He had no idea who he was going to call. He obviously couldn't call his mother. If she knew where he was... Eddie shivered. 

His fingers pressed a series of numbers on autopilot. He held the receiver to his ear and let out a sigh of relief when a familiar voice echoed over the line. 

"Who the fuck is this?" 

"Richie? Hey, Hey! It's me! Spaghetti!" 

"...You good? You sound drunk." 

"Nope. You're drunk. But I do, uh, kind of need a ride." 

Richie laughed over the line, making Eddie break out into a goofy grin that he was grateful nobody else was there so see, "Alright, alright. I'll be there asap. Where abouts are ya, Eds?" He asked, shuffling on his end as he got out of bed. 

"By the old movie mill," Eddie said, teeth chattering in the cold wind. He had forgotten his coat at the house. 

"Be there soon, Eds," Richie said, "Don't move." 

He hung up the phone and Eddie put the phone down reluctantly, turning and shivering, looking out across the street. In less than 10 minutes, there was a rumbling of an engine and Richie's beaten up chevy roared down the road. He pulled to a stop and climbed out of the truck, grinning at him. 

Eddie grinned back, shivering still. 

"Heya, dahlin'!" Richie exclaimed in a horrible southern accent, "Ya look cold! Here," He said, pulling his oversized leather jacket off of his shoulders and draping it over Eddie's shoulders. 

Eddie stood there, staring up at Richie. His glasses were sliding down his nose, eyes twinkling in the lights. He wore an old red t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. He smelled like cologne and a hint of mint. Eddie sighed a little, smiling and pulling the jacket around himself, inhaling the familiar scent. 

"Come on, dahlin', let's getcha inside!" Richie exclaimed, grinning and leading him over to the passenger side. 

He opened the door for Eddie and helped him in. As Eddie watched Richie jog around to the driver's side, his alcohol buzzed brain could only form one word - _Fuck. _

He was a goner. 


	4. I Think We're Alone Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song: I Think We're Alone Now by Tiffany!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 ugh my heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also they're aged up for this! Around 16!

"FUCKING FAGS!" 

Eddie felt like his lungs were going to burst. Bowers was hot on their heels, his fucking lungs were burning, but he didn't care. He laughed. He was fucking terrified, of course, but he was laughing. 

Laughing because he was running with Richie, running hand in hand down the Derry street, with Henry Fucking Bowers on their ass, knife in hand, three goons just as big as him on either side. And Richie was laughing too, his face bright red and sweat lining his forehead. Laughing. Wind whipping their faces, hearts pounding, their laughter the only thing louder than the screams from the boys behind them. 

"Quick! To the barrens!" Richie shouted, quickly veering left and yanking Eddie with him. 

Eddie stumbled but caught himself at the last minute, wheezing with laughter. He looked over his shoulder - Bowers was gaining, but his lackies were falling behind, winded. Eddie grinned as the two of them jumped down the embankment, skidding over the rocks and puffing. They managed to gain some distance as they cut through the woods, skating around the edge of the clearing. Richie glanced over his shoulder, then pushed Eddie around the tree that their hideout was underneath. Richie skidded on his calves, kicking the door up and tumbling in, still holding Eddie's hand. 

The two boys plummeted down, hitting the ladder hard. Eddie let go of Richie's hand quickly and yanked the board back over the entrance, hiding them from view. There was silence for a moment, the only sound the puffing of the boy's breath as they tried to catch it. They heard the shouting of Henry, screaming for them to find 'those fags'. Eddie quietly, slowly stepped down from the ladder and onto the ground, wheezing and frantically grabbing his inhaler, taking a few quick puffs. Richie, who had fallen to the ground, stood and cleaned his glasses on the hem of his shirt, panting heavily. 

They waited, standing there awkwardly for a few moments, until they were sure that they were safe. Then Eddie burst into laughter; hysterical laughter that doubled him over, wheezing. Richie laughed, then, too, a deep belly laugh. He walked closer to Eddie, giggling, and gently grabbed his arms. Eddie straightened, face bright red and eyes watering. Richie grinned, hands on either side of Eddie's face, just looking at him, before pulling him into a kiss, much like the kiss that had elicited Bowers' rage to begin with. Eddie, grinning into the kiss, wrapped his arms around Richie's neck and kissed him back enthusiastically. 

They could hear Bowers screaming up top still as he tried to find where they had gotten to, and that made them crack up all the more, the kiss breaking as the two boys started laughing, arms tangled over each other. 

When their laughter finally ebbed away, their sides aching and their lungs burning, they heard a voice from the hammock, "Jesus, are you fucking done yet?" 

Eddie whirled around, eyes wide and face bright red, Richie just grinned, "Oiya, Stan the Man! We didn't see ya there!" 

Stanley looked between the two of them, shower cap on his head and a comic on his lap. He shook his head and turned back to his comic, muttering something like, "stupid hormones" under his breath. 


	5. Boomboxes and Dictionaries.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off of the song Boomboxes and Dictionaries by The Gaslight Anthem because the fucking lyrics are Reddie   
also sorry in advance

** _I took a drive today_ **

** _I thought about you _ **

** _I thought about a friend that passed _ **

** _And how much we just went through _ **

** _I saw the sun shine off the hood of a cadillac _ **

** _I thought about some things I said _ **

** _And some I would take back _ **

** _I thought about how fortunate I feel to be alive _ **

Richie sat behind the wheel of his truck, staring over the dashboard, humming softly to himself. He closed his eyes and let out a shaking breath, letting the tears come. He just let them fucking come, because he hadn't fucking _stopped _since he returned to LA. They had started forgetting, as Mike had warned that they would, but for some reason, Richie just couldn't forget the one fucking thing that he wanted to forget. It would start with something small, like a fucking song, and it would all flood back. He could be fine for a few days at the most, but then he would see Eddie Kaspbrak in the way that somebody walked, the smell of a fucking pharmacy, or even just a certain fucking _shirt _that he wore. Eddie. Eddie. Eddie. 

Richie let his head bow, shoulders shaking as the tears came harder, harder and faster. He gripped the steering wheel until his hands hurt and his knuckles were white. He took a deep, shuddering breath, then screamed, his voice shaking. He punched the steering wheel once, twice, three times, shaking the entire truck. His voice cut off with a sob, breaking as he rocked forwards and backwards, the grief and pain washing over him like new. He remembered the fucking look on Eddie's face when he died. He remembered the words that he said before he died. "I thought I got it. I thought I got it, Richie, I thought I got it." 

He screamed again at the memory, shaking with grief and anguish, voice hoarse. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fucking _fair. _It had ruined everything about his life. Fucking everything. Now it was dead, but Richie was still fucking dying. Every few days, it was like he had been hit by a truck. Everyone else had forgotten by now - he had reached out a few times, but it was like the last time, only this time he knew that it was going to be permanent. He was the only one left that fucking remembered Eddie, remembered that his body was _still _somewhere under that fucking house. 

He had called Derry's town hall and asked about Neibolt. It had been renovated after it's collapse, and there was a new house that had been scheduled to be built in it's place. Eddie's fucking body was under that house still, along with whatever remained of It. And it was Richie's fault. He hadn't brought Eddie out, he hadn't saved him, he had left him there, he had... 

Richie had left his fucking soulmate underneath that house. 


End file.
